Sunday, 16 December 2012

Kacey Hammell Blog Tour: A Ghost for Christmas

As the festive season comes upon us, so to speak, I am delighted to be a host on the blog tour for the new Christmas tale from Kacey Hammell. Read on.....

After receiving a long weekend at an elegant hotel
beside the majestic Niagara Falls as a Christmas gift, Jodie Gibson is
determined to do nothing but relax and enjoy the scenery. And, okay, just maybe
meet someone who makes her toes curl.

Sebastian is sophisticated, tall, dark and
gorgeous--everything a woman fantasizes about. But he's also an 18th
century ghost. He haunts the halls of the hotel, seeking the one true love that
can help him find peace…

As she peered into the reflective glass, a face
appeared behind her. Jodie whipped around and fell back against the window.

Oh my fucking
God!

Before her, in what looked like a shimmering
bubble, stood the most breathtakingly beautiful man she’d ever seen. Dressed in
a white shirt and black pants, he had dark unruly hair and striking, magnetic
blue eyes that held her in place.

Jodie blinked, uncertain, scared and breathless.

How was it possible? She’d read the newspaper
clippings, yes, but it was unimaginable to think ghosts might actually walk
among the living.

Not everything made sense. She only believed in
things that could actually be seen, felt and touched. This seemed surreal.

Stunned by the apparition before her, dressed in
what looked like centuries-old clothes straight out of Esquire, he seemed to look straight through her, and his smile
warmed her clear to her toes. Lord, she was in trouble.

“Hello.” Soft and gravelly, his voice alone
seduced her…all the way to her toes. Her body quivered and her center
tightened.

Whoa. What
the hell am I thinking? There’s a ghost
in front of me and I’m ready to jump his bones. Not bloody likely.

“What are you doing here? Get out. I don’t care who you are, you’re leaving,
right now.”

He frowned. “No need to be frightened. I’ve been here for centuries.”

Jodie laughed, and not one to wilt like a scared
little girl, stood tall. “This is all a joke.” She looked around, up and down,
and all over the room. “Are there hidden cameras somewhere? Hey, Ashton, if you’re behind the camera, you
can come out now. I’ve been Punk’d good. Thanks and all, but I’d
like to get on with my evening without you.”

“Who is
this Ashton? What is a punk? A rake,
perhaps?” he asked.

Jodie squinted.
“A rake?” She hadn’t ever heard
that term spoken, but had read it in historical romances. No one talked like
that these days. “No. Never mind, it’s not important. Listen, I just want you
to go. I want to enjoy my evening.”

His smile was gentle. “I’m sorry, my dear, but
this evening every decade is the only time I am visible to the human eye. I
never miss a chance to watch the Falls.”

Every decade…

“You’re telling me you do this every ten years?
How old are you?”

“I was born in 1781. That makes me—”

“Two hundred thirty-one,” Jodie whispered, legs weak. She
grabbed the back of the chair nearby and sat down. Were such things even
possible?